The Party of freaks

A disturbing, absurd poem that makes about as much sense as a crazy person's fantasy...wait a minute. Does that mean...?


I'm skipping among the gravestones, feeling mighty fine

As a parade of marching zombies, shuffle in a line

This place is strange and morbid

but where else is there to go?

Judging by what I've already seen

I probably don't want to know.


Skittering, jittering insects

crawl across the ground.

A man is frozen, his mouth wide open

but no one hears a sound

I see the specters as they soar, high above this grim abode

I see the little girl go by, holding her pet toad.


Dreaming, dreaming...I must be dreaming

The grass is on fire and people are screaming

Trees are dancing, and the undead are prancing

Its a regular party of freaks.


There's a boy with leather hands

And his ears and nose are too

His first hands melted away

When the blaze scorched them, is this true?

So they replaced them with some cow-hide

'Cause he didn't know what to do

And now he walks among the freaks

In this place of pure taboo.


His sister is a girl named Lana

Who's eyes are filled with worms

One look from this human iguana

Would make even a strong man squirm

She enjoys the taste of crunchy flies

And anything at all

Take her to a party, and you might have a ball!


The Ringmaster of the Circus

Has baleful yellow eyes

He waves a wand to keep us here

With dark hypnotic lies

If we try to misbehave

Or leave during the show

Ooh, the terrors he will visit

You don't want to know.


His Freakshow is exquisite

Full of hideous, inhuman things

Like the dog with the leaking eyeball

And the giant rat that sings.

Inanimate objects talk to us

Explaining this and that

About the monsters in this collection,

About the cat in the razored hat.


Skipping among the Marshlands, feeling more than a little scared,

For a creature in a loose black Death robe

Smiled wide and stared

As I passed the bubbling swamp gas

Then my ankle something snared

Only a fool would stand around

To see how well I fared.


This celebration of horrid freaks

Is a twisted sight to see

As the moments fly by

I need to cry

And somehow try to flee


This isn't a dream, its a nightmare

but how do I wake up?

This creature has my ankle

And I think I might throw up


Is there a gag reflex in dreams?

Or is this truly real?

Will anyone really hear me scream

Is this too much to feel?

Sensation is too vivid

Sights are way to clear

Some of the beasts just seem to feast

On my sorrow and my fear.


If there is a way out it must be beyond

This swampy, gassy place

Or could it be my sanity has vanished without a trace?









The End

2 comments about this poem Feed